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Santa Monica Review, Fall 2023: “PETTY CRIMES”

Essay Archive

I’d Do Anything for... Skepticism? (But I Won’t Do That)

Over the last few months I’ve gained a deep appreciation for Meat Loaf. Not meatloaf the beefy slab whose time as an acceptable form of dinner rightfully ended in the 20th century. I’m talking about The Bat Out Of Hell himself, Meat. Loaf.

It started back in April, when I read this thread and learned that Meat Loaf had a lifelong collaborator named Jim Steinman, who had sadly passed away. Steinman wrote all of the epic rock opera hits that made Meat Loaf famous, and during a feverish haze from my Covid vaccine, I got sucked into the drama by going down the looong rabbit hole that is the history of the song “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now.” I even got Stephen (hubs) reeled into the whole thing and we watched insane live videos of Meat Loaf back in the 70s, learned that Bat Out of Hell sold 45 million copies, and wondered why, as huge fans of Freddie Mercury and Queen, we never got into it until now.

Why am I talking about this? Well, for purposes of this essay, I want to quote the title of one of Meat Loaf’s most infamous songs, also written by Jim Steinman: I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That).

What exactly is the “that” for which Meat Loaf sings? We may never know. (Although the music video suggests that as a motorcycle-riding cousin to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Meat Loaf will not turn his love/duet partner into a vampire for love.) Regardless, I’ve come to realize that I have my own “that” in my life.

Synopsis, Structure and Repression, oh my!

At the age of thirty-four, I’m finally starting to see the depths of one of my core defense mechanisms. While I’m all about personal growth, I have to admit, I never thought it would come from... writing a story synopsis.  

Almost every novelist hates writing a synopsis for good reason: writers like words and a synopsis is the most basic story summary you can get. Ideally 1-2 pages long, or 500-800 words. In its current state, my novel is almost exactly 80,000 words; ergo, I needed to summarize my book down to 1%. No mystery as to why I’d been putting it off.

But with my manuscript in the hands of my teacher, and the fact that I want to query some literary agents in the near-ish future, I needed to make one. Not every agent asks for a synopsis, but it’s a good tool to have.

Hoo boy. I knew I was going to hate it, but I did not expect a synopsis would spin me out so completely. 

Moving + “Writing As Therapy”

After an unplanned hiatus, I’m back in the saddle and I’m so excited to catch you up.

Why the break? We moved back to Los Angeles!

Stephen’s job that brought us to San Francisco is WFH-flexible now, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense to be in the country’s most expensive city during a pandemic. We moved back to LA for our friends and sunshine, but if I’m being totally honest, the main reason is because the 2020 wildfires broke my heart. 

We had a hard time with the SF fog and wind, but we started taking long drives around the bay every weekend. We quickly fell in love with NorCal and dreamt about settling outside the city.

Doing Nothing When Everything is Everything

I had a hard time deciding what to write this month—not because I didn’t know what to say, but because lately, it feels like there’s too much. 

As an Enneagram 1 (“The Reformer” personality), my creative tendencies always lean toward what I perceive to be the most pressing issues of the moment. When our country reignited with the Black Lives Matter movement, I wrote about that. When the state of California lit on fire (still happening, btw), I spilled out everything I knew about climate change. 

This month, I was tempted to wax poetic on women’s rights. I read the *excellent* memoir Know My Name by Chanel Miller - the woman assaulted in 2015 by former Stanford student Brock Turner. In the same moment I finished reading it, I set the book down and picked up my phone, only to see that Ruth Bader Ginsberg had passed. I was rattled.

But no, this will not be a #MeToo mini-dissertation.

Instead, I’m going to talk about... nothing at all. Not fretting. Not expressing. Not even thinking. Only being. 

A Lamentation in Fire

I’m sitting in my living room in a strange, orange-red light. My eyes itch, my throat burns, and my head has a hollow ache. I go to kiss my dog and she smells like campfire. All this, from the heavy cloud of smoke covering the city of San Francisco. 

I can’t help but think of a line from one of my favorite movies. 

The 1997 film Contact stars Jodie Foster as a scientist who discovers evidence of an advanced alien civilization. In one scene, she is interviewing for the opportunity to be the ambassador to meet this civilization. A panel judge asks her, “If you were to meet [them] and were permitted only one question to ask, what would it be?”

She responds: “Well, I suppose it would be: How did you do it? How did you evolve, how did you survive this technological adolescence without destroying yourself?”

California is burning again. A result of a historic heatwave and, in the northern part, lightning storms almost never seen in the area. All this due at least in part to extreme weather from Climate Change.

So yeah, I can’t help but wonder: how do we survive this technological adolescence without destroying ourselves?

The truth is, beyond the itch and ache and burn in my head, what I really feel is helpless. And the only thing I know how to do when I feel helpless is to write or cry. So here I am. Writing. To keep myself from crying.

So really, this is a selfish exercise. But hopefully this might help you too. Here we go.

A Question that Asks A Lot

This month my learning started with, like most things, a question. 

I’ve been having an insightful exchange with a Black friend who’s involved in racial justice activism. We mostly express our frustrations with social issues and share helpful resources when we can. But then in one exchange about having frustrating conversations with friends & family, he said, “It’s a big ask, but we need people to consider: what relationships are you willing to sacrifice to get people free?”

I’ll share some of my thoughts on that, and I’ll also talk about how I’ve applied the root of that question—sacrifice—to writing. But first, let me tell you what initially went through my mind.

The Mollusk Theme Continues

Don’t tell the authorities, but when our landlord asked if we wanted to stay in a private cottage on the Oregon Coast for free, it was too hard not to say yes please. In less than a week’s notice, we drove ten hours north to quarantine there for two weeks. (We were very responsible, I promise!) It wasn't the hike to Machu Picchu we'd planned, but as far as consolation prizes go, it was pretty darn spectacular.

Obviously, I’m not the first person to learn from nature. Especially the ocean. And after being stuck in an apartment for months besides the occasional trip to the grocery store and a crammed city park, my atrophied senses were primed to be dazzled by a goldfish. But dazzled, they were. And learn, I did. 

Doubt, Mysticism, and Snails

This month, I’ve arrived at what I’ve decided to call Validation Station, which has felt pretty good except it’s looking like my next train isn’t going to come for quite some time.

Please, allow me to explain what the hell that means. 

I haven’t been sharing much about the content of my WIP, but what I will say is that I’ve been exploring the themes of choice and free will, which has led me to broader areas of paradox and non-dualism. If you’re not 100% familiar with those concepts, don’t worry, I’ve gone all David Foster Wallace and provided a very long footnote at the end of this.

If you’ve got a handle… 

Following the White Rabbit in Uncertain Times

Welp. One month I’m waxing poetic about ‘have no fear’ in creative life, and now it’s become a global sentiment of survival. Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? But here we are. And in my quest to continue writing despite it all, here’s what I’ve learned: in times of upheaval, it’s more important to notice your creative behavior rather than control it. 

First, I know my privilege is showing. If I have the capacity right now to consider how to keep writing, I’m doing better than most. So, if you’ve got bigger problems, my heart goes out to you. Maybe just check out the playlist I made if you need a pick me up. But if you’re like me and lucky enough to still consider creative pursuits, then I encourage you to…

Facing Fear

Each morning I wake up to this photo of a Buddha statue on my bedroom wall. There are a lot of reasons I love this photo. One, it was taken by my husband during one of my favorite trips. Two, it complements the wallpaper in the room beautifully (just bein’ honest). And three, the stance that the Buddha takes in this photo means Have No Fear. If there’s one message to begin every day, it’s that.

But since I am a human being, that message doesn’t always sink in.

Here’s what I’ve realized: I haven’t lived by this in my writing. Truth is, my current work in progress has a lot of heavy subject matter, and I’ve been scared shitless about it. Specifically, I’ve been scared that a reader will find it too exhausting & give it up, or never take a chance on it at all. 

Strangely, that fear comes from another book.

The Battle for Inherent Self-Worth

This month I’ve been learning a hard lesson, which encapsulates my last year: I do not need to earn my worth. 

I’ll get to how, but first, some backstory.

As an Enneagram 1, I identify as an idealist and perfectionist, which means my Basic Fear is being bad, corrupted, or devoid of integrity. This being the case, my worst enemy is my Inner Critic, which my former therapist (an apparent LOTR fan) called the Eye of Sauron—the haunting, never-resting search for the ideal.

Why am I this way? Well, my full name is Teresa, which means ‘Industrious One’, so if you believe in nominative determinism, there’s that. But I think part of it has to do with my conservative protestant education, which often leaves me wondering if I’m good enough, working hard enough, and hence, worth enough. Here’s the clearest (and most frightening) illustration I can offer.